The Difference Time Makes
by JWParamoure
Summary: Dean saves Gabriel one night. What happens will they fall in love? What happens when destiny separates them and they come back together after years apart? Will they recognize each other?


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything recognizable belongs to either Mr. Kring or Mr. Kripke.

What if Dean Winchester and Gabriel Gray met before either show started? What if they fell in love?

This will be a slash story. Don't like, don't waste time reading it!

I was on the lookout for a good drink. New York had been somewhat accommodating with its 24-hour everything and dark alleys. It was easy to hide things and the Big Apple's citizens were eager to overlook anything out of the ordinary. Plus they had amazing pie around every corner. But it was too closed in, too crowded. I finished the hunt; some spirit had decided to haunt a freakin' elementary school. Four kids were hospitalized before I'd found its bones. Man, I hate ghosts.

This leads me to my hunt for some good liquor before I head out tomorrow. I'm driving to California to check on Sammy, not that I would tell him that. I knew he could take care of himself but I had to make sure. Winchesters just attract too much shit.

The sound of glass being smashed broke me from my thoughts. Human grunts of pain followed. I ran toward the source of the noise. Two blocks down, the front window of a watch repair shop was broken and two hooded figures stood over a whimpering lump.

"You know, breaking and entering is against the law." Dean stepped through the window and crunched his way carefully over the glittering floor. "So is assaulting someone."

The two burglars jumped and swiftly turned.

"You a cop?" asked hooded figure number one.

"No," he slowly stepped forward "But I don't like people getting what they don't deserve."

Hooded figure number two bristled. "Who are _you_ to decide what he don't deserve?" He nudged the shaking person on the floor with his toe. The person scrambled away from the foreign foot.

"I'm no one." Dean said then paused dramatically. "No one you want to mess with."

"That so?" Figure number One thrust his tool of punishment- a crowbar- at his partner.

"I guess I'm just gonna have to prove you wrong." The first burglar jumped forward and threw a fist at Dean's face. Dean ducked and swung his fist up into the man's chin. The man's head flew back and Dean used the chance to catch the man's stomach with his foot. The man fell back into a shelf; the second burglar decided to join in. He caught Dean off guard with a swift hit to the back of the head. Dean stumbled and then received another punch to the jaw. Dean hunched over the counter, recovering. The first burglar stood and made to march over to Dean when sirens began blaring in the distance. The man continued on his way to get vengeance from Dean but the second burglar stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Man, stop! The cops are on their way. We got to get outa here!" He pushed his partner away and grabbed their tools. "Come on!" He grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the giant hole in the store front. Dean straightened and pushed away from the counter once they were gone. He dodged the knocked-over displays and walked to the huddled man on the floor. Dean knelt down, reached out and touched his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" The man skittered away, frightened. Dean could smell the blood.

"I'm not going to hurt you; I just want to help." He reached out again. "I promise I won't hurt you." The man looked up with watery eyes.

"I just want to help." Dean held out his hand. The man poured himself into Dean's outstretched arms. Dean fell back, sitting on the floor. He patted the weeping man awkwardly on the back as he held him.

"You're fine. Everything's okay. You're okay." Dean consoled the man as best he could.

Soon the man extracted himself from Dean and hissed.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked hurriedly.

"I…I think something is…broken." He gingerly prodded torso.

"Are you having trouble breathing? Is it painful?"

"Um…yes. It hurts here." He pointed to a spot on his left side.

Dean grimaced. "That's what I figured. You have a broken rib. Those suck."

The man looked up shocked. "You've had a broken rib?"

Dean frowned, "Too many." At his questioning look, Dean added, "Work. Let's get you up and then to the hospital."

"No! No hospitals."

"Okay, no hospitals." Dean wasn't one for hospitals either. "Then you have to let me fix it. Where we headed?"

"We…?"

"Ya, I gotta get you home so I can bandage your rib."

"Oh, right. It's upstairs."

"I get the feeling that you're a workaholic."

"Why would you say that?"

"Never mind. Can you stand?" Dean helped the man to his feet and allowed him to lead the way, as much as a person can lead while leaning on someone for support. They walked behind the counter to the back room where they took a flight of stairs up to a locked door.

"The key is in my pocket." Dean stared at him, wide-eyed.

"My left one." Dean didn't move. "You're going to have to get it if we are going to get inside."

Dean finally moved and gingerly slid his hand inside the stranger's front pocket. He ignored everything but the feel of a set of keys and successfully pulled them out.

"Aha!" He got the door open and they moved inside.

"There is a chair straight ahead. Light switch is on the left." Dean shuffled the man toward the chair and then flipped on the light. He looked around stunned.

"You live here?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes. Is there a problem?" The man wheezed out.

"It's the kitchen of a 70 year old woman!"

"Thanks." He groaned and clutched his side. Dean suddenly realized the man's discomfort and rushed forward.

"Let's get you to the bathroom." They stumbled to the bathroom. The adrenaline was wearing off for both.

The man sat on the toilet while Dean gathered the supplied from beneath the sink.

"Take off your shirt."

"Really?"

"Uh, ya. I have to wrap your ribs so they can heal. Unless you're shy…"

"No, it's just…never mind." He took off his shirt with Dean's help. Dean gazed at the purple bruising beginning to form across the man's torso. His eyes swept across the dark chest hair and down toward the man's- Dean snapped his eyes toward the bandage in his hand and started to wrap the man's ribs tightly.

"You're face isn't too bad."

"My face- what's wrong with it?" he asked worriedly.

"You got a black eye and a cut across your forehead, probably where all the blood came from." Dean grew silent as he finished wrapping and began cleaning the man's cuts. He swept his fingers across a butterfly bandage and down the man's face. Dean met his eyes and they stilled. A yawn from the man broke the silence and Dean turned to throw away the soiled gauze.

"I'm finished. Just take some painkillers and sleep. You should be healed up in a few weeks. Go to the hospital if it gets worse." He cleared his throat to ease the tension. It didn't help.

He put everything back as the man stood. "Tomorrow will freakin' suck, you'll be sore." Dean turned to leave but then awkwardly turned back.

"I'm just going to…" He pointed toward the exit. When the man didn't say anything, he turned away to leave. But the man grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

"Please don't." He gulped loudly. "I don't feel…I mean I can't…I don't think I'll be…able to sleep." He broke contact. "Can you stay?"

Dean looked startled. "Ya, if that's what you want…I mean, I can…but only if you want me to."

The man nodded eagerly. They moved towards the bedroom when he stopped and looked to Dean.

"You don't have to…I can sleep on the couch."

"No, you don't. You will sleep in the nice, comfy bed not covered in plastic because you are injured." Dean pushed him into the bedroom. "Just give me a blanket and a pillow and I'll be cool."

The man disappeared into the closet while Dean walked the ten feet toward the shiny, floral couch.

"I'm officially in hell." Dean muttered. He sat and began to take off his boots as he continued to speak, "Here I am, in a stranger's house, spending the night. Breaking every rule in the book."

"Here you go." the stranger said as he walked back into the living room, carrying a blanket and pillow.

"Thanks, um…" Dean looked at him questionably.

"Gabriel. Gabriel Gray." He blurted as he blushed at his bad manners.

Dean smiled at Gabriel's red cheeks. "It's nice to meet you Gabriel Gray. I'm Dean Winchester." They shook hands, chuckling.

Gabriel turned to walk into his bedroom but stopped mid-step. He faced Dean.

"Thanks."

"For what?" Dean stopped unfolding the blanket.

"For rescuing me. You saved me." He paused. "If you hadn't gotten there when you did, I would be…" He gulped loudly and shut his eyes tightly. "Well, thank you."

"I'm glad I got there too." Dean continued to unfold the blanket.

Gabriel watched him for a few moments. "Goodnight Dean."

"Night, Gabe."

"Gabe?"

"Yep." Dean stood up straight and smirked.

Gabriel hmrph'd. He did not like nicknames. As he looked at Dean's lean back, he decided he could like Dean's.

"Goodnight." He walked into his room but left the door open. The lights went out.


End file.
